


A Tricky Little Potion

by Queenie_Mab



Series: Mab's Harry/Draco fics [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crack, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dubious Morality, Licking, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moral Dilemmas, Oral Sex, Potions Accident, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenie_Mab/pseuds/Queenie_Mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong."</i> Horace Slughorn, HBP</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tricky Little Potion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lumosed_quill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/gifts).



> A gift to Lumosed Quill for all her smutty beta help with a couple of my recent fics!

~*~

  
Draco grabbed the tall bedpost, holding on as tightly as he could. Sweat slid from his hair and down his naked body, muscles taut, knees pressed hard into the mattress. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripped his cock and wanked like he'd never wanked in his life – and it did no good. His balls were tight, huge, but no matter how he stimulated himself – wanking, charming his dildo to prod his prostate just right – he couldn't come.

The urgent need racing through his veins let up again, though it was only a momentary reprieve. He'd been locked away in the eighth-year boys' dormitory all day doing whatever it took to get off and nothing worked. He slumped forward, bracing his clavicle against the bedpost, relaxing until the dildo slipped out of his arse, and just breathed. He cursed himself for ever thinking he could brew a proper batch of Felix Felicis. He only needed a break – one day of good fortune – to turn his life the right way round. It was luck, pure and simple, that Potter had pulled some strings and got McGonagall to invite him back for a second chance. He was on his _last_ chance and, after studying the potion for a year after first learning about it, he was confident he could brew it. 

Apparently he was wrong about that, too. He had no idea what the potion was doing to him, but it was far too humiliating to attempt to seek help for the side effects. Felix Felicis was supposed to wear off after twenty-four hours; he'd only taken a small sample that morning, surely it would wear off before lessons were over for the day. 

The urge rose up inside him again – the fervent need to come. His balls drew up, relaxed, drew up again; it's like they were trying to ejaculate through a blocked pipe. His eyes flew open, panicked at the thought. Did he block his cock? No, he'd managed to piss an hour ago, though it took ages to get his erection to go down enough to manage, and he got more piss on the floor and wall than he cared to admit. 

"Oh godohgodohgod!" He groaned, his cock throbbing. He looked down at it, pulsing in his hand as if it had a mind of its own. The exposed head was an angry red, the shaft, practically purple with bulging veins and friction burns. He groped desperately through his sweat-damp sheets. He'd already gone through several phials of lube. This was getting ridiculous. He grabbed another phial – only two left after this one – and dribbled it down his cock, making a ring with his left hand and fucking up into it. It wasn't enough, was never enough. 

Gasping as his slit gaped, reminding him inexplicably of a goldfish's lips smacking around for flakes of food, he grabbed his wand and set the charm on his dildo once more. He again held onto the bedpost, hugging it with one arm, and trying to bring himself off with as little pressure on his cock as he could, all the while being pounded from behind by his enchanted dildo. 

A knock sounded on the door. His first instinct was to scream at whomever it was to go the fuck away. Instead, "Come in," shot from his shocked mouth. 

The door creaked open and he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and held his breath. Perhaps if he passed out, he wouldn't need to explain himself. Or maybe he'd die. That would be preferable to Potter finding him in such a state. 

And, of course, it was fucking Potter of all people. 

"What the – Malfoy?" Potter spluttered. 

"Yeah, and I'm having a private moment in case you didn't notice. Get the fuck out, git!" is what Draco meant to say. What he actually said was, "Potter. I need you. Fuck, help!"

And, of course, the Bloody Hero Chosen Prat shut the door and replaced the Locking Spell. He approached. Came right up to Draco's bedside and stared at him getting fucked by a ten inch long purple dildo, jerking his cock like his life depended on it. It fucking felt like it did. 

"Please, Potter," Draco gasped, not meaning those words to be the ones that came out. "I need your cock. Need you to fuck me in two, suck me, eat me out. Please, I need you to make me come!" His voice was haggard, choked. 

Potter's quick intake of breath, his tongue darting out to wet his parted lips, hand not-so-subtly adjusting the front of his trousers, all proved that the boy hero was if not totally bent, at least partially leaning. What a fucking relief. 

The urges passed again. Draco stared at his wretched cock, harder than a Quidditch goal post. He was too exhausted to fight with Potter. Instead he slumped against the bedpost again, the dildo slipping out of his arse and rolling, prevented from falling off the bed by Potter's hips. 

"What happened to you?" Potter asked. He wetted his lips again. 

"Don't ask questions," Draco gasped. He reached his lube soaked hand toward Potter and put his finger to Potter's lips. 

Potter looked like he was about ready to rage at Draco for daring to touch his mouth with cock-slimy fingers but, amazingly, Potter didn't. He closed his eyes behind his stupid glasses and sucked Draco's fingers into his mouth. It started out with just Draco's fingers, but then Potter began licking his entire hand clean, eating the lube off like it was spilled sugar. 

Draco could only stare open-mouthed in disbelief. When Potter had finished cleaning his hand, he started nuzzling it, smearing his face with lubey saliva and Draco couldn't help but think it was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. Potter wasn't so bad to look at, now that he thought about it. He wondered briefly if he'd inadvertently brewed a love potion, a lust potion? But the thought flew from his mind like a dandelion seed in the wind when Potter opened his eyes again, fixing them on Draco's. There was lightning in the look, a connection Draco could feel all the way in his toes. 

The urge hit him again and this time, invigorated by Potter's presence, he found the strength to push himself away from the bedpost. He walked on his knees on the mattress the couple of paces to meet Potter face to face. He had several inches on Potter in this position, and couldn't help the smirk from forming on his lips when Potter's eyes followed his the entire time, drinking in the sight of him. 

Potter shuddered and then started tearing at his clothes, ripping his shirt off without even trying to salvage it. Buttons scattered across the floor and he somehow managed to drop his jeans and step out of them without breaking eye contact. "Turn around, Malfoy. I'm going to eat your arse." 

The words were spoken as if by an angel of mercy. They sent a balm of relief running through Draco's body. He didn't even think that he and Potter could hardly stand to be in the same room as each other. Exposing his most vulnerable place and inviting Potter to stick his tongue inside it felt like the most natural thing to do right now. 

And so he found himself sobbing into his sheets, biting them as his pleasure mounted. Potter – never one to do anything without total conviction – ate arse with such determination, Draco was certain he must do it on a regular basis. If only he was in his proper state of mind, Draco would try to remember to tuck that tidbit away to hold over Potter's head the next time they quarrelled, but now all he wanted was to succumb, to melt under the heat of Potter's undeniably talented tongue. 

"Lube, now!" Potter growled without moving his face from between Draco's arse cheeks. He'd moved back enough to make his demand and instantly replaced his tongue, his entire face in Draco's arse. Thankfully, he'd lost his glasses at some point, and Draco was busy being thankful for not having glasses marks across his arse while he searched for another phial of lube. He found it and handed it off to Potter, as Potter reached inside him so deep he had to bite his sheets again. He ripped a hole in them. 

Draco's cock was so sore from his earlier jerking, tears sprang to his eyes when Potter grabbed it, but then the lube smearing over the tender skin soothed him, though did nothing to diminish the ache deep inside his guts. He _needed_ to come. 

"Please …" he begged, voice a hoarse whisper. "Deep inside. Hard. Fuck me deep."

Potter didn't say another word. He pushed Draco forward so he was face down in the middle of his mattress and climbed on top of him. Draco felt the blunt head of Potter's cock against his already loose and needy hole, and then sobbed again with the pure ecstasy of Potter sheathing himself to the hilt. 

Slapping flesh, the scent of come and, strangely, burning metal – like ozone, or the scent of the air during a lightning storm – filled Draco's ears and nose. It didn't matter; he came. He _exploded_ into his sheets, hardly able to breathe from Potter's weight pressing him into his mattress. 

"Gonna come inside you. Fill you up with my spunk. Gonna seed the shit out of you. Make you mine." Potter grunted, gasped, groaned between phrases. It was non-negotiable; Draco knew he was being owned. Surprisingly his heart leapt at the thought. Being owned by Potter wasn't such a bad thing at all. 

Potter came with a howl. It split Draco's mind, ringing in his ears, and simultaneously filled him up on the inside so much he didn't think there was any room left for any sensation other than _satiation_. 

Potter collapsed on Draco's back, their sweat mingling, making their skin slide and creating some rather embarrassing squelching noises when they readjusted to breathe.

Five minutes later – though it could have been longer – Draco's heart slowed to a normal pace, and his mind seemed to return to itself. Potter was lying on top of him, his cock still wedged in Draco's arse, still hard. 

"Erm … Potter?" 

"I don't know what's got into me. I need to come again, but … it's like …" Potter broke off as if talking hurt. 

Draco's mind reeled. What the hell did this potion do? Was it contagious? How could Potter have the same symptoms when he hadn't ingested any? And then his eyes fell on the phials of lube and he realised the liquid inside them was a pale yellow colour, not clear like lube should be. 

"Oh fuck." 

Potter rutted his hips, rubbing Draco's overstimulated nerves to the point of pain. 

"Pull out, Potter. I'll get you off." Draco couldn't believe what he was doing, but then, he knew how desperate the potion had made _him_. It wasn't exactly his fault Potter got dosed with it; he wasn't in his right mind when he touched Potters lips with it smeared all over his hand. 

Potter rolled off him with a groan and Draco sat up, able to breathe easily for the first time all day. "Malfoy, fuck me, please," Potter begged, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. 

Draco looked down at his poor abused cock. There was no life left in it. He grabbed his dildo from where it was tangled in the sheet and Summoned a proper phial of lube with a resigned sigh. The things he did out of a guilty conscience. He looked down again at where Potter had spread his legs and wantonly exposed his arsehole, stroking his cock so fast his hand was a blur. 

Draco couldn't help the small stirring of arousal flickering inside him. He was a healthy eighteen-year-old boy; these things can't be helped. 

When Potter spotted the dildo he made a wild grab for it, holding onto Draco's wrist and trying to force it inside himself. 

"Potter wait, you'll hurt yourself."

"I'm already hurting. Fuck! Hurry!"

Draco drizzled lube over the dildo and prepped Potter's hole with his finger, telling himself he found the whole thing disgusting, but his cock seemed to think it was a brilliant thing to do. How he could possibly be hard again, he didn't know. 

Potter's gasping, his desperate grip on Draco's wrist – sliding up his forearm as Draco pushed the purple rubber cock inside him – got Draco pretty fucking hot. But it was Potter's intense stare that really did him in. Moments later, he pulled the dildo out and replaced it with his own cock, relishing the hiss of relief in Potter's voice. Potter pulled him down so they were chest to chest and then mouth to mouth, and Draco forgot to be disgusted.

~*~

  
Draco groaned as his body rebelled against him. It was noisy; it was smelly; it was foul, and bloody uncomfortable. But he wasn't alone in his suffering. He wasn't sure if he was glad of the fact or mortified.

The next cubicle over, Potter released a similarly pained moan. "I hate you, Malfoy. How the fuck do you mix up Get Lucky Potion with lube?"

"Shut up, Potty. How the fuck do you come into the room, see me wanking, and not immediately leave? You even replaced the Locking Spell before you'd ingested the potion."

Potter was quiet for several long moments. Rather, his mouth was quiet. Draco snickered at the other sounds he was making until his own body joined in the humiliating experience. It wasn't quite as funny when it was happening to him, too. 

"You needed help," Potter said. "You might be a sick bastard, but I could tell you were suffering."

Draco rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the blush from rising in his cheeks. 

"Never speak about this to another living soul?" Draco offered, kicking his foot under the cubicle wall. 

Potter grunted, though if it was in agreement or in concentration, Draco wasn't sure. Then a returned kick to his shoe let him know Potter would take this experience to the grave. Thank Merlin. 

However, Potter did eat arse like a fucking champion, and Draco had two phials of Get Lucky left. He figured he'd keep that information to himself for now. Just in case.

~*~The End~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 [HP Darkarts Halloween Potions Challenge](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/100808.html)
> 
> Plot inspired by the lovely Iwao's [Cursed](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2211795) with her blessing.


End file.
